The Warden's First
by Bebus
Summary: The Dalish Hero of Ferelden travels to Kirkwall, where an old friend is waiting with a terrible secret.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **A few notes on canon:_

_This piece takes place at some point during DA2, Act 3, after Merrill's final quest (A New Path) but before the endgame._

_It will be a totally original story, and there is one major deviation from Bioware's canon: Leliana is **not** Sister Nightingale, and several more original themes will sprout from that omission._

_M rated because I go into some detail of Leliana's incarceration. Warnings for torture and rape, not graphic but it is there._

* * *

'Oh, Mythal blessed land!'

Theron Mahariel hopped from the ship, soft leather boots landing with a nearly silent _thump _as he hit the stone surface. More than ready to dance on the solid feeling underfoot, he was unpleasantly surprised when the ground lurched to the side and he promptly fell over.

Another pair of boots appeared in front of his eyes, and a delicate voice touched his ears.

'What's this? A child of the Dales, stumbling like a drunken shemlen?'

Theron smirked up at the beautiful red headed human woman looming over him. 'You know, I didn't believe you when you said that would happen.'

'You should have learned by now never to doubt me, my love.' The smile that played across Leliana's face as she spoke sent his heart into overdrive, and his stomach dancing like a da'len in the woods, even after all of these years.

He held up his open hand to her. 'You can't blame me. Who knows when the beautiful Bard will show her true colours?'

She rolled her eyes and took his hand, meaning to help him up, but Theron had other plans. He pulled her down instead, and they quickly turned into a rather dangerous pile of shrieks, laughter, leather and weapons.

'It seems you are too quick to trust, my dear,' said Theron with a grin.

They stopped rolling, and looked into each other's eyes. Theron had spent so long helping Leliana accept her old life, it always felt good to see that they could now joke about it. He leaned forward, and planted a kiss on her soft, glowing lips.

They were attracting a fair amount of attention; a beautiful woman with fiery red hair was kissing a heavily tattooed elf lying on end of a pier of the docks of Kirkwall. But attention was not unusual for Theron; not only was he an armed elf wandering the human lands, he bore the markings of the "barbaric" Dalish. The mutterings and glares of humans had long since ceased mattering to him.

He flashed her a cheeky smile and hopped to his feet, before dragging her up as well.

Theron was, to his _great _joy, taking a holiday. Ever since Loghain had slain the Archdemon, redeeming his crimes with his sacrifice, the elf had spent six years rebuilding the Grey Wardens, and their numbers were finally beginning to resemble what they had been before the Blight. After finally finding and training a Lieutenant he could trust, a Dwarven general condemned to the Deep Roads for striking a noble, he announced that he was leaving for three months, retrieved Leliana from the barracks and left with no more than the weapons and clothes on their backs.

Their first month had been wonderful. He took Leliana through the forests of Ferelden, marvelling at the still untainted beauty, making love in ancient glades and swimming naked through pools no human had ever laid eyes on. It was the best month of his life.

He had agreed to let her decide the destination of their second month travelling, and she had deemed to show him three great human cities. Val Royeaux had certainly been impressive, but the look on Leliana's face as they entered the gates had touched his soul more than any feat of engineering could. After spending an afternoon in a "spirited" argument about the Chantry on the steps of the Grand Cathedral, and a night of making up that probably offended the Sisters even more, they decided to simply have the luxuries of Orlais delivered to their room, and spent most of the rest of their time indoors.

And now they were in Kirkwall.

He looked up at the vast, ugly, stone behemoth towering above him. Why Leliana had decided _this _would be a suitable vacation spot still eluded him. He had heard nothing but bad things about the city: a cesspit of inequality, where the dirt quite literally washed from the upper riches of Hightown to the slums of Lowtown and the under-city.

Without Leliana's bright eyes drawing him from his senses, the full presence of Kirkwall hit him like a charging bronto. The scent of rotting fish and mouldy wood filled his nostrils. The baying of humans flogging their wares rattled his ears. The salt air tasted of desperation.

He looked to his love, and the wonder in her eyes could only marginally cheer him up. 'I don't see what the big deal is.'

She turned to him with a broad smile. 'This is _life_, Theron! It might not seem like it, but Kirkwall is one of the few cities in Thedas where a person can _truly _change their fortunes. The lowest beggar can become a noble if they are smart, strong or lucky, and the viscount himself can be cast down should he fail his duty.'

'Or murdered by the Qunari, if that sailor wasn't too busy drooling down your cleavage to remember the truth.' he remembered with a smile.

'And in his place rises a Champion, no more than a Ferelden refugee just a few years ago!'

She really did believe what she was saying, and it excited her. She had left the life of a Bard behind, but Leliana would never be content to the life of luxury he could provide for her. She wanted, _needed _the thrill of the chase, the risk of life's dangers, the joys that came with overcoming true adversity. It was one of the many reasons he loved her. It was the reason she had asked to become a Grey Warden. And it was, in the end, the reason he had acquiesced, and put her through the Joining.

He smiled at his love, rejuvenated by her passion as always, and said excitedly, 'Alright then, let's see what we can make for ourselves in this durgen forest! Where to?'

Her eyes filled with the mischievous glint she always got when she was about to recite a favoured legend, and despite having seen the look a dozen times, he felt his heart start to beat faster, his breath grow shorter in anticipation. 'There are rumours, of a tavern near the docks, where nobles sit alongside paupers, where the drinks are made from the sweat of the last nights' drunks. Where pirates are friends with guardsmen, and where apostates wake, hungover, in bed with Templars. A place where tales are told, heroes are born, and legends are forged.

'It is called, the _Hanged Man_.'

He looked at Leliana, deadly serious. Her face was straight, eyes widened with just the right level of awe and disbelief in her own words. He slowly raised an eyebrow, muscles straining to keep the movement small, to which Leliana responded with the tiniest curling of her lip. He brought his brow back down and lowered it further into a frown of doubt, to which Leliana responded with an insulted pout and the smallest nod of her head.

They stayed like that, silent, in a battle neither had ever won , for more than a minute, before both bursting into laughter, voices melding together in a medley that even made the whores leaning against a nearby wall shake their heads.

Leliana was wrong. The sheep around him could scramble, lie, steal and fight their way up to fame and fortune, but none would ever be as rich as he. Every moment he spent in this beautiful woman, this _goddess's _company, was life, and nobody could ever convince him otherwise.

She clasped his hand, her voice still dancing with merriment, and dragged him towards a set of stone stairs leading up to the next level of the city. 'Come, my mighty Hero, this way.'

The trip through the city was relatively uneventful. Like every shemlen dwelling there were beggars everywhere; despondent humans and sad, broken excuses of his own kind, glaring at Theron's proud posture with a mixture of awe and hate.

There were merchants, peddling anything from blades to fine silks, from ancient tomes to oversized hats. Leliana, naturally, stopped to look at the latter.

She took an enormous, richly decorated black hat with a wide rim and extensive feather decorations from its stand, and dropped haphazardly it on her head.

'What do you think?' she asked.

She looked _stunning_. Even though, or perhaps because, she was dressed in rough leather armour, hair disheveled from over a week at sea and face still lightly flushed from their earlier exertions, she looked beautiful. The dark hat seemed to pull the light from the air around her, focusing all attention on the wearer. The spikes of her unwashed hair hung downwards, the red complimenting the black like lightning flashing from a cloud.

He strode up to her, into her personal space. 'I like it.'

She smiled happily, like a child given a gift.

'But, it seems to get in the way...' He pushed the hat back, causing it to tumble softly to the floor, and leaned forward to take her lips again.

'Hey, knife ear, get your filthy mouth away from my customers!'

Theron sighed and looked down. Leliana, recognising what was to come, took a hand in both of hers and whispered, 'Take no notice my love, I will handle this.'

A meaty hand attached to an overweight shemlen crashed onto his shoulder, trying to spin him around. Theron could have broken his arm in four places by now, but he had promised Leliana to be on his best behaviour. Besides, he trusted her to take care of the situation.

She sauntered around, gently swaying her hips, and lifted the man's hand from Theron's shoulder. The man stopped his ranting at the contact, mouth hanging open wide enough that a dagger could enter his brain without touching his teeth.

Tossing a hidden wink at Theron, she put on her huskiest voice. 'Brave man, saving me from the brute...' She drew close, and thrust a knee up into his crotch with enough force to make Theron wince a little.

The man let out a noise not dissimilar to a darkspawn shriek before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dropped to the floor. With a satisfied smile, Leliana took the hat from where Theron had knocked it to the floor and replaced it on her head.

She began to stroll from the shop when Theron caught her hand. 'Ma vhenan, we are not thieves.'

She pouted a little. 'I like this hat.'

'As do I.'

He pulled out his coin purse and dropped a sovereign onto the man curled on the floor, before smiling openly at Leliana. 'And now we can leave!'

She smirked, and led him from the store, continuing their journey towards the Hanged Man.

'_Brute?' _He asked incredulously, a grin working across his face.

Leliana giggled and placed an arm around his waist, ignoring the outraged looks from the "proper" women of the city, whose elves trailed behind them carrying their bags and perfumes. 'I know what you're like.'

'If you knew what I was like, you would never have said that.' Theron grumbled, with good humour.

'And why is that?' Leliana sounded innocently clueless, an obvious ploy to prompt his response, a ploy he decided to indulge as he lowered his voice.

'Because you would know exactly what _brutish_ consequences it would have.'

She leaned in closer and whispered into his ear, hat being knocked off centre but looking only better for it. 'Maybe that's exactly what I'm hoping for.'

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder; despite his naturally slight elven stature he had a few inches on the shorter human woman. They had been denied any real privacy on the ship from Ferelden to the Free Marches, and it was clear both were looking forward to getting to their room.

He was thinking which response would wind her up the most when they turned a final corner and Leliana broke their embrace.

'We're here!' she laughed, before running off, body swaying appealingly in her tight leather armour.

Leliana darted through a door and left him standing in the street, looking at the grubby building. It was slightly less dirty than the surrounding residences, but he could have urinated in the street and the place would become, on average, less dirty. There was a giant, wooden carving of a man swinging from side to side above the door, and the sounds of a typical human drinking establishment coming from within.

He took a deep breath and entered the tavern.

It was not, to be fair, as bad as he was expecting.

The furniture was all intact, and he could see the wood floors were well made and maintained, underneath the layer of sawdust laid down to soak up the spilled drinks, blood and vomit the night would bring. There was a pleasant tune coming from a band in the corner, not drowned out by the chatter of conversation but not overwhelming anybody. The large room was only half full; it was early afternoon and no doubt the place would fill up later, but for now the atmosphere was almost welcoming. He saw Leliana already speaking with the bartender, and he gave a smirk at how unashamedly she was flicking her hair, leaning forwards over the bar and whispering to the man.

They would be getting a _very _good deal on their room.

Sure enough, Leliana soon sauntered up holding a goblet in each hand, handing one to Theron.

'The sweat from last night's drunks?' He asked, sniffing the contents carefully.

Leliana poked her tongue out at him. 'The house's finest wine. They are preparing a bath for us in one of the rooms upstairs, would you like to sit with me?'

'I can think of nowhere else in Thedas I would rather be.' He replied, visually drinking in Leliana's radiance.

They sat for several minutes sipping their wine, in a wonderful silence not the most fulfilling conversation could have beaten for satisfaction.

'Yer bath's ready.'

As one they looked up to the serving girl who announced her presence. She looked tired, sounded bored and had a demeanor to match. However, her eyes widened a bit as she took in the sight of a Dalish Elf, distinct red markings covering his face, sitting with a beautiful fiery human... 'Hey, ain't you-'

'I'm afraid not.' Theron said quickly, heart sinking. 'Can you please ensure our room has enough wine for several days?'

'I... er... yeah, sure, whatever you say...'

They stood together and made their way upstairs. Theron sighed before speaking 'There's no way she bought that. We'll be mobbed by the time we're done cleaning up.'

'Then what do you say to taking refuge in our room for the rest of the day?' Leliana replied with a sunny smile.

The elf returned her happiness, feeling a smile tug across his face. 'I knew we worked well together. You're the brains of the operation, I'm just the muscle.'

She bumped him with her hip, knowing fine well that not only could she fight Theron to a standstill in hand to hand, but also that he had a real knack for strategy and was not nearly as stupid as he let on.

They entered their room, and both sighed in relief at the sight of a large tub of steaming hot water in the corner, with several tubs of cooler water beside it.

The barmaid returned, being none-too-obvious in eyeing them up as she dropped off half a dozen bottles of wine while they put down their packs. Theron had to shoo her out after a minute, and locked the door behind her.

'Maker, it has been far too long.' Leliana walked over to the tub and dipped her hands into it, cooing in pleasure as she washed her face.

Theron walked behind her and began to undo the buckles of her armour. He would find somebody to clean and patch their armaments tomorrow, but for now the woman in front of him took all of his attention.

It had taken over a year for Leliana to allow him to touch her in this way. Their half-hidden encounters in the camp while they chased the Archdemon had been beautiful in their own manner, but to allow him to see her in a fully lit room; to allow him to undress her, caress her, had taken months of patience on both people's parts.

He dropped the thick leather outer pieces and she sat on a nearby bench, allowing him to remove her boots as well.

She was now wearing just a cotton shirt and thin leather trousers over her underwear, and Theron silently began to work the trousers down, not averting his eyes or flinching at the scars across the tops of her thighs. She stood again and he lifted her shirt over her head, gently running a finger over the lash marks on her back, the burns across her shoulders. He accepted his love as she was, scarred and torn, knowing the true beauty that lay beneath.

Those early days had been hard. She did not like it when he tried, out of misguided respect, not to look at her, so eventually they had begun sharing their secrets: he would tell of a mistake, a buried horror about himself every time Leliana revealed the origin of a scar.

When she told him of the near daily whipping, he told her how he had once been caught by a group of humans and beaten, almost to death, only to be brought back from the brink by the Keeper's magic.

When she informed him of the burns, how the torturers would joke about leaving their names in her flesh, he confided that he still saw Connor's face in his dreams, as he cut the sleeping child's throat.

She relived the lashes, humiliated, tied and bent over a table, while he grieved over the purge he conducted of the Circle of Magi; dozens of innocent mages butchered by himself and Sten, so he could have his Templar army.

She whispered of her greatest shame, her greatest horror: how the soldiers would disturb her sleep to drag her in front of baying crowds and rape her, where all could see and nobody cared. How the women spat on her, how the men would try to join in. How sometimes the soldiers would let them. He wept over his betrayal of his best friend, Alistair, cast aside because Loghain was the better soldier, the better general, the better tactician, the better _Warden._

They knew each other. Every shameful secret, every scar they hid from the world, every fear, every mistake, every horror they kept in their souls, they shared.

And they accepted each other. Leliana, now completely bare from the waist up, accepted him. For all of his mistakes, for all of the damage he had done, she accepted him and loved him, as he did her. He took a sponge and drew it across her beautiful, ruined back, washing the filth of travel from her, just as she washed away his guilt.

He knew she was the better person. What had happened to her, was not her fault, whilst all of his choices, his mistakes, were his own. But still she loved him, still they loved _each other_ and shared something the world outside could not comprehend. People could only glimpse the edges of what they had, and feel jealous that they would never know what it was to know another person so completely.

They finished cleaning each other, and spent several hours languidly making love, about to relax into a haze of euphoria and wine when they heard a chant begin to rumble from downstairs.

_**Cham-pi-on!**_

_**Cham-pi-on!**_

_**Cham-pi-on!**_

Suddenly the floor of their room literally shook with cheers.

Leliana, head resting on Theron's chest, opened a half-lidded eye. 'Do you think the Champion has arrived?'

Still not quite sleepy, he gave a sly smile. 'Which one?'

The redhead responded with a not-gentle poke to his ribs. 'You know which one!'

He drew Leliana in closer, loving the scent of her; soap, sweet sweat and sex, loving the feel of her body pressed against his.

'Want to go see?' He asked

She groaned and nuzzled in closer.

Theron's smile widened, and he prompted again, 'can I take that as a yes?'

A louder groan, and Leliana began to run a hand over his toned body, tempting him to stay in the warmth of the bed.

Theron played his final gambit. 'You said this place is where legends are made. The Champion of Kirkwall and the Hero of Ferelden drinking together has something of prophecy to it, does it not?'

He hated that title, but he knew exactly how to please his love, in more ways than one.

There was another groan, but she looked up and he knew he had her. The thrill of a new story was glimmering behind her eyes. Like him, Leliana would never change.

They dressed quickly, into what passed for nice clothes when they had to carry their worldly wares on their backs, and descended the stairs.

The tavern was now very busy but the shouts had died down, and everybody looked to have a full drink, a round on the Champion's coin no doubt.

He was not hard to spot. The Champion sat, facing away from Theron, at the head of a table with a group so diverse it threatened to put his own merry band to shame. To his right sat a woman with bright orange hair, strongly built, in the heavy armour of the City Guard. Next to her was a glum-looking elf, markings on his skin like no vallaslin he had ever seen; white, almost glowing in the dim light of the tavern. Opposite him, glaring in what appeared to be an attempt to out-brood the elf, was a man he recognised all too well. Anders, the coward he thought dead at Vigil's Keep. Theron would deal with him later.

A dwarf with no beard sat at the far end of the table, with another familiar face draped over his shoulder, one hand grooming his rather extravagant chest hair. The pirate Isabela, who, unknowingly, had saved Ferelden from the Blight. As Denerim had become a hotbed of tension and arguments during the build up the Landsmeet, Theron had found himself more and more withdrawn, snapping at anybody who tried to help, destroying the cohesion he had spent so much time trying to build. A chance encounter, and the pirate had taken he and Leliana to her bed for a night of such vicious passion Theron still occasionally winced when he sat down. Afterwards, the tension with Leliana disappeared and their behaviour radiated out, relaxing the whole team. Finally, beside the Champion was a handsome man in gleaming white armour, looking thoroughly uncomfortable and out of place, sipping what appeared to be water.

Theron started down the stairs, only for the waitress from earlier to call out. 'There 'e is! The 'ero o'Ferelden!'

Every face except one turned to him, and again the place ruptured with enormous noise. A drink was shoved into his hand, and he was practically ushered down the stairs. As his angle grew more favourable, he saw the profile of the Champion.

He certainly looked the part. A strong jaw, with pitch black hair across both his head and chin, falling into a perfect pattern that looked both threatening and heroic, and hazel eyes that glowed gold in the light from the fire. He bore an unusual set of arms; an impractically _spiky _suit of armour, heavily plated across one arm and shoulder, but otherwise made of tattered cloth and chainmail. He had an strange weapon laid against the table. Half of the length was taken up by a wicked blade, but the other was gnarled, patterned wood, with the ornament at the top reminding him of the staves Dalish Keepers carried. Was he a mage, outside of the Circle?

Suddenly Theron's eyes were caught by the elven woman perched on one of his knees. He had not seen her earlier, because of the bulk of the man's armour. She was slight, dressed in glittering white armour decorated with green engravings and trimmings in the pattern of leaves and trees. She saw him, her enormous eyes, green flecked with gold like the sun shining on a forest, widening as they caught his own. She blinked almost comically, before brushing a dark braid out of her face.

She had not changed at all, in all of these years. The same hair style, her vallaslin just as he remembered, accentuating the beautiful, delicate features of her face.

His breath caught in his throat.

Leliana leaned in, curiosity in her eyes, and followed his gaze.

'Do you know that woman?' She asked.

Theron's response came out as no more than a whisper.

'_Merrill?'_

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Thank you for reading. The idea for this piece came from a random chat with TSLi, who has also been kind enough to beta read for me, for which I can offer __only __eternal gratitude. _


	2. Chapter 2

Leliana, concerned about the look on her love's face, followed his gaze.

He was looking at the elf perched on the Champion's knee. She was certainly very lovely; wide eyes the natural green of the Dalish, soft features made all the more beautiful for the graceful tattoos dancing across her skin. Leliana was not jealous; the bond she shared with Theron had no room for such feelings, but she was both curious and concerned about her man's reaction to the woman, and her reaction to him.

'Do you know that woman?' she asked, cautiously.

His brow furrowed, and his response was just above a whisper. '_Merrill?_'

Theron had told her of Merrill. She was the reason he was so hostile when they first met; the pair had been lovers, and when he was tainted by an ancient artefact they were torn apart, allowed little more than a swift farewell. He was bitter, angry that life had denied him his happiness with his first love.

Theron had told her this, just as Leliana told him of her love for Marjolaine. They shared everything about themselves, placed themselves so far into each other's trust that they could drown in it. Two people, broken in their own ways, sharing their souls and becoming whole for it.

Theron's love for Merrill was one of his greatest regrets. Leliana did not need to ask to know that he would never betray her, but the wound in his heart was one of far too many that remained open. He had made a rash promise to her to return when his duty was done. A promise forgotten, like so many others, when his path was made clear.

She had known every aspect of Theron for so long that it was unusual to realise that she had no idea how he would react. But, as always, whatever he did, she would be by his side. She took his hand, and said, 'Do you want to talk to her?'

He finally met her gaze. His eyes, once a pure, bright green like the woman across the room's, now swam with the pale blue of a Grey Warden, the two colours together looking like the globe Marjolaine kept in her study. He looked torn.

'I... I need some air.' Theron muttered.

He pushed through the crowd and vacated the tavern, leaving Leliana standing, unsure of what to do. Should she follow him? Should she allow him some time alone? For one such as her, indecision was an unwelcome and unpleasant feeling.

A gentle touch drew her from her reverie.

She turned to see who it was and was greeted by the sight of the Champion of Kirkwall.

He was an impressive man, nearly a foot taller than Leliana and heavily muscled. His armour was ragged, but in a way that appeared _designed, _like some people would purposefully tear their shirts to reveal more flesh, and well made. He was holding his unusual weapon, which Leliana guessed was a mage's staff but would clearly suffice as a blade as well, with the point digging into the floor. He leaned on it, just slightly, the same way Morrigan used to lean on hers; as if to display their ownership of the nearby air.

Another gentle touch on her hand, and she looked down to see Merrill was beside her. She was even shorter than Leliana, and despite her beauty and dazzling garb, was hard to focus on next to the pure _presence _of the Champion. The man himself said nothing, and was looking at her with an expression that, despite her years of Bardic training and practice thereafter, she could not read. His posture, however, was one of pure defence. If she as much as laid a wrong look on Merrill, she would not live to regret it.

'Excuse me?' the elf's voice was like a bird singing.

Leliana met the girl's wide eyes and forced a smile. 'Yes?'

'Pardon for asking, but I'm honestly not sure I believed my eyes just then, I had a glass of wine and sometimes it goes straight to my head.' Her voice was sweet, lilting with an alien accent that years amongst humans and dwarves had driven from Theron. She babbled, just like Theron described; it was rather adorable and she knew instantly what he saw in her. The Champion placed a reassuring hand on Merrill's shoulder. The elf straightened, emboldened at the reassurance. 'But I need to know, was that Theron Mahariel?'

Leliana nodded, and replied. 'And you must be Merrill.'

The reaction would have been amusing, if the Champion did not look like he was on a hair trigger. Merrill's eyes widened, and her mouth opened into a little "o". The man's expression did not change, but his grip on his staff tightened and his eyes narrowed.

'He... told you about me? What did he say? Where did he go? Actually, never mind, I'm being terribly rude, I always forget to introduce myself. Although, you already know who I am so that won't really be necessary.' She smiled and looked up into Leliana's eyes. 'It's nice to meet you.'

Leliana could not help but return the smile, though the Champion's foreboding presence dimmed the affection and amusement she felt towards the elf.

'It is a pleasure. My name is Leliana.' She gave a small curtsy.

'Ooh, that was pretty! I would do one too but I would probably fall over, I always do when I try to copy Isabela's pretty moves.'

Leliana's smile grew more natural, and she was about to reply when the Champion spoke for the first time.

'_The _Leliana?' His voice was deep, just like she imagined, but she was sure she could detect a trace of humour underneath it. 'Of course, you accompanied the Hero of Ferelden. You still do, it seems.'

Leliana nodded. 'He is precious to me.' She waited to see what reaction that provoked. Merrill frowned a little in confusion, and the Champion's expression remained passive.

Suddenly he held out a hand. 'I'm Hawke.'

She took his arm in a warrior's greeting. She was happy to see that his expression was pleasantly surprised: she knew he would appreciate the gesture. Still looking into his face, she saw that the man was closely guarded, and _very _dangerous, but had a rich personality just underneath the surface, with humour and strength shining through, hints only one experienced in reading people could pick up.

She looked at the pair and spoke again. 'Do you want to come with me? He won't have gone far, he was just not expecting to see you here, Merrill.'

Merrill nodded, and Leliana knew Hawke would follow. It was clear he was fiercely protective of the woman.

'Hawke, can you please tell the others where we are going?' Merrill looked up at her man, who nodded and turned away.

As the two women made their way through the crowd, Leliana could see Merrill was struggling to ask her something. She had a fair idea of what it was, and prompted, 'Do not worry, he did not come to cause trouble with you and Hawke.'

Merrill's face moulded into one of relief. 'O-Oh! You knew! You're very smart. Just like Isabela, she can always tell just what I'm thinking, and knows what to say to make me feel better. Are... you and Theron...?'

She smiled and simply said 'yes', letting her expression answer the rest of the question.

Merrill nodded with a sage look that was almost comical on her delicate features. 'That's good. I'm glad he found someone.'

They vacated the tavern, and Leliana was not surprised to see Theron was just to the side of the door, looking towards the setting sun.

Merril spoke gently. 'It is good to see you, lethallin.'

Theron looked towards her, his expression still one of uncertainty, but he took her into his arms and said, 'You too, lethallan.'

He released her after just a few moments, and looked again at Leliana. His trademark smile returned to his face on meeting her eyes, and she felt her heart relax a little. 'I see you two have already met. I hope it wasn't too awkward?'

'Awkward? Why would it be awkward, she seems nice... oh!' Merrill babbled, before catching herself. 'Because we both... oh no, I don't think it was awkward, did you Leliana?'

Leliana smiled towards Theron. 'No, it was not awkward, my love. Merrill here is with the Champion of Kirkwall!'

'Oh yes! He's marvellous! He should be out in a minute, I can't wait for you to meet him! Strange that we're both in love with humans, isn't it! I wonder what the Keeper... oh.' Merrill's face fell into a deeply upset frown, just as Hawke vacated the building and heard her final words.

The Champion placed an arm around Merrill, and she leaned into his body. Hawke looked up after a second and nodded towards Theron, who inclined his head in return. Leliana had to resist smiling at the pair: they both looked as though they were judging their chances at taking the other in a fight.

'Nice to meet you.'

'Likewise.'

Hawke looked down to Merrill, and added a little humour to his voice, to try and draw her from her unusual reaction. 'Varric is having a field day in there, he says he's already got half a dozen ideas for stories planned out. Isabela offered to help with some sections... I think it's probably safer that we don't let her.'

Merrill chuckled a little bit at that, and straightened up somewhat. 'I think we should take them to my house, Hawke, I have something I need to show Theron.'

He nodded instantly in understanding. Leliana was intrigued: why was Merrill not with her people? Was that what she wanted to speak to Theron about?

As with all of the best stories, the answers would come when they did, so she took Theron's hand as they set off after the departing pair, flashing him a small smile, a secret one reserved only for him. She was relieved to see his eyes light up, just a little bit, and the corners of his mouth begin to curl. Whatever came, he still loved her, and she him. In the end, that was all they needed.

The pair ahead of them paused as they entered a wide area populated almost entirely by elves, with an enormous tree in the centre. An alienage. It was - surprisingly - more pleasant than Denerim's, though she had certainly not seen it at its best all those years ago. The Vhenadahl was well kept and the streets cleaner than some of those they had passed through, but the air here was full of sadness, the sunken eyes of the traders and poorly maintained homes and stalls showed a failure of the pride of these people.

She squeezed Theron's hand. She knew he could barely stand these places: he would rather, he said, see his people die out than live like this. The Vhenadahl, seen by some as a beacon of hope, was to him a desperate ploy by the elves to pretend their souls were not already lost to the heartless city.

They walked up alongside Merrill.

'You _live _here?' The pain in her love's voice tore her heart, but Merrill seemed oblivious as she replied.

'Oh no, most of the time I live with Hawke up in Hightown, the rats there are much nicer, I just keep my home here because... well, you'll see.'

Hawke rolled his eyes, and spoke with a hint of humour. 'I told you before, Merrill, those aren't rats, they're peoples' pet dogs.'

'They're small, furry, annoying and bite things. I say they're rats.'

They continued to bicker as they led Leliana and Theron to a small dwelling just off the square, and Leliana was slightly surprised to feel a gentle pressure behind her eyes. It was a curious feeling, one she had never felt before, as though there was something trying to exit her skull from the inside. It was soft, barely noticeable, but as they drew closer to Merrill's house it got stronger.

She heard somebody whisper in her ear, and spun around, determined to stop what was no doubt a pickpocket distracting her.

But there was nobody there.

She looked across to Theron, who was probably grinning at her absurd overreaction, only to feel the pit drop from her stomach at the sight of his face.

His usually dark, sun-touched skin had drained to white, and there was a look of pure fury on his face. His hand was at his waist, resting on his dagger. She suddenly realised what she was feeling.

The gift, and curse, of a Grey Warden was to sense the Darkspawn taint.

At her insistence, Theron had put her through the Joining a little over a year ago, after nearly a whole year of arguments over the issue. He wanted to keep her safe. She wanted to share his fate, whatever the consequences. In the end, she won.

But ever since she was Joined, there had been remarkably few darkspawn sightings. Theron had instead increased his recruitment drive, and as such Leliana had yet to encounter the whispering of the taint.

Merrill propped her door open and cheerfully turned to both of them. 'Andaran atish-'

She stopped as she saw both of them had drawn their weapons.

'What's wrong?' Merrill asked, eyes wide with concern.

Theron snarled his response. '_What _have you done, Merrill?'

Hawke turned at his voice, immediately on edge. He saw their drawn daggers and readied his staff, eyes beginning to glow as he tapped into the power of the fade. He pushed Merrill behind him.

'Stand back, I will not hesitate to cut you down!' His voice was commanding, and Leliana saw the _Champion _for the first time.

'Step aside, I do not want to hurt you or Merrill, but my duty supersedes any desire!' The Hero of Ferelden, the Commander of the Grey Wardens radiated power, even in soft cotton clothes armed with a dagger, and she saw Hawke take pause.

Leliana readied for battle, knowing that she would follow her love, follow her duty as a Grey Warden, to whatever end.

'Stop it, all of you!' Merrill snatched up a staff and stood alongside Hawke.

'Merrill, _what _have you _done?!' _Theron snapped.

'Theron, this is what I was going to show you, it's-'

'I _know _what it is!' he roared. All of the elves in the square were watching now. 'Now by the order of the Grey step aside or I will put you _down_!'

Merrill looked wracked with indecision, her gaze sweeping between Theron's mask of pure fury and Hawke's smouldering defence. Leliana tightened her grip on her dagger, and slowly slid a small throwing knife from a hidden sheathe up her sleeve. If Hawke was a mage, he needed to be brought down quickly. Theron took a step forward and she pulled an arm back, ready to throw, while Hawke cupped one hand and she saw flames begin to flicker in his palm.

Suddenly Merrill put a gentle hand on Hawke's arm and drew him away from the door. He obeyed her without question, flame dying, but remained on guard.

Theron stormed in, eyes wild, and it did not take him long to find what he was looking for.

A huge mirror, mounted in an elaborately ornate frame, took up most of a small room otherwise packed with books and alchemical equipment. It made Leliana sick to the stomach just to look at, and it felt like the pounding in her head was going to cause her to pass out. There was no reflection, just a dull, grey surface that she struggled to focus on.

With a bellow of pure rage, Theron took his dagger in both hands, blade pointing down as he raised it above his head, and thrust it into the mirror.

The silverite runes on his enchanted blade flared to life, and a huge burst of energy sent Leliana to her knees, feeling a deep nausea that she struggled to suppress.

And it was gone.

The pressure receded from her skull, and the whispers stopped. A cautionary cough confirmed that her stomach was fine.

She looked up. Theron was still standing, drenched in sweat, panting at an exertion she knew he should not be feeling for just breaking a mirror.

There were shards lying all over the floor, and the frame had cracked down the centre, both sides leaning against opposite walls of the small room.

Theron turned to her, and looked to be about to help her to her feet, when there was another pulse, and Leliana fell forward again, retching.

Theron snapped.

Letting out another shout, he raised his boot and stamped on the large shard nearest him, sending splinters of glass flying across the room as he ground his heel into the floor. Another large piece caught his eye, and he picked it up, dashing it against the wall above Leliana's head, sending glass cascading over her hair and neck.

'Theron! Stop it!'

He could not hear. His face was twisted, barely recognisable as the man she fell in love with.

The pieces fell into place. This was the _eluvian, _the relic that Tainted him, dragged him from his peaceful life in the forest into a world of monsters, pain and suffering. He had eventually found a purpose, and love, but to see it again, fully restored...

He stamped on another piece, and heaved the frame over as much as the small room would allow, sending books toppling and vials full of alchemical ingredients crashing to the ground.

Leliana could not bear to see him this way any longer. She got to her feet and forced him around to face her, before hitting him with an open handed slap that echoed through the whole house.

'Theron!'

He blinked.

She held him at arms' length and kept his gaze on her own, before his eyes finally calmed, and he _saw _her. Instantly, rage was replaced by regret and terror, and Leliana leant in to embrace him.

'Leli... I'm so sorry... I...'

'I know, I know, just hold me...'

She held him for a long time, whispering words of reassurance and love, until he finally stopped trembling.

She heard a sob behind her.

They turned, and saw Merrill crumpled on the floor, back leaning against the door frame. Her face was an expression of pure misery, and she was sobbing unrecognisable words as Hawke, kneeling by her side, comforted her and glared at Theron with barely contained hatred, and more than a little fear.

Theron spoke again, his voice soft. 'Leliana, Hawke, I need to talk to Merrill. _Alone_.'

The other man stood, jabbing a finger at the Hero of Ferelden. 'If you think you-'

'No, Hawke.' Merrill's voice was weak, but clear through the room. 'He's right. He won't hurt me.'

She stood, reached up on her toes and whispered something into his ear. He looked angry, but nodded.

Theron took Leliana's hands and looked into her eyes. She could see the Grey Warden blue practically _glowing _with emotion, the green almost completely buried. 'We will talk later, ma vhenan.' She could see that it hurt him to say.

He would tell her everything, of course, but she recognised that this was between him and Merrill.

'Of course, my heart.' She replied. 'I will be back at our room.'

Hawke walked towards the door, and spoke up: 'Leliana, with me if you would.'

With a final glance towards her love, she followed the human from the house.

Ignoring the large group of elves gathered around the house, they vacated the alienage and headed to the upper reaches of the city. Leliana wordlessly trailed Hawke as he headed, if her memory served her correctly, to Hightown.

Night had fallen, the end of summer indicated by a bracing breeze, by the time they entered a vast mansion. Leliana was delighted to be greeted by Bodahn Feddic, the dwarven merchant who supplied their battle against the Blight, and his simple son who jumped and and hugged his "pretty red lady".

As she reminisced with Bodahn, Hawke disappeared upstairs. When he returned, he was wearing a soft robe that completely removed the menace the man held in his armour. He was still tall and well built, but now he looked more like a person than a symbol. She understood the effect; despite his slim build and average height, when Theron was in his full battle garb he positively _demanded _attention.

'Would you like a drink?' His deep voice no longer filled the room, as it had at Merrill's, but rather gently sung to her. He had been greatly shaken by the evening's events, and he was certainly not alone in feeling it.

'No, thank you Hawke, Bodahn here has already been kind enough to bring me one.' She gestured to the goblet of fruit juice to her side.

'Well I hope you don't mind, but I think I need something a little stronger. And in my home, you can call me Garrett.' He gave a weak smile and poured a short glass of an amber liquid from his liquor cupboard.

'Thank you for taking care of Leliana, Bodahn, please give us some privacy.'

'Of course, Messere. Come now Sandal, let's see if you can't do something with Miss Leliana's dagger, even _I_ can see the enchantment on this was done by a human with too many thumbs...'

'Enchantment!'

They left the room and Leliana gave a small smile as she spoke. 'It is good to see some things never change.'

Hawke nodded, and sat in one of the large, comfortable chairs by the fireplace, indicating for Leliana to sit in the other. 'And some things do. Merrill asked me... to tell you what she is about to tell the Hero of Ferelden.'

'Theron,' she interrupted.

'Pardon?'

'He does not like the title, I would prefer you call him by his name.'

'Very well. Things have... been difficult for Merrill recently, for all of us.' Hawke took a sup of his drink, before continuing. 'What she is about to tell Theron will hurt him, a lot, possibly even more than seeing the eluvian did. She wanted me to let you know, so you can be there for him when he needs you.'

She nodded, heart already breaking for her love. He had been through so much already, and now what was supposed to be a holiday was to be ruined as well. Could they never have peace, or happiness?

The man swallowed the rest of his drink, and stood up to get a refill. As his back was turned, his next words were quiet, but still echoed around the room.

'I suppose it begins with how I first met Merrill.'


	3. Chapter 3

The door closed behind Hawke and Leliana, leaving Merrill's house in a terrible silence.

Theron turned back to Merrill, who looked very tiny, hunching her shoulders and dropping her head.

'I... I need some water.' He muttered, feeling drained.

Merrill looked up, and gestured to the door. 'There's a well just outside, and some cups on the table.'

He slowly walked outside, giving both himself and Merrill some time to calm down. There were dozens of elves looking at him curiously, and he simply scowled at them. He was not in the mood to deal with the gawping of flat-ears. After realising he was not going to provide any more entertainment, the elves went back to their pitiful existences.

Theron took a few more deep breaths, wrinkling his nose at the awful scent of the place. He wanted to be out of Kirkwall, and back in the forests, losing weeks in his love's company. But duty and history, it seemed, had a sick sense of humour and had collided to force his shameful display in Merrill's home.

He walked back in, and saw Merrill had removed her armour and was wearing a simple green tunic, leaving most of her legs and arms bare.

She looked even smaller than he remembered her, unhealthily skinny.

'Here, I got you a cup too.' He handed her a chipped mug of water.

'Thank you, Theron.'

He sat alongside her on the bench in her main room.

Where could he start? He had so many questions. Why was she here? Where was the clan? What was she doing with the eluvian? As always, duty came first.

'I...' he began.

She looked at him with the wide, bright eyes he had once fallen in love with. But now, all he felt was sorrow, a dull anger, and the desire to be away.

'Merrill, you know _exactly _what the eluvian did to me and Tamlen, what were you thinking, rebuilding it? You could have been hurt, or tainted, or poisoned the whole alienage if you managed to get the damned thing working again!' he tried to keep his voice neutral, but after what it had done to him...

'It wasn't tainted! Anders is a Grey Warden, he looked at it and-'

'Anders is a _coward _anda **failure **of a Grey Warden! I felt it as soon as I entered the alienage!' he snarled._ '_What's your next excuse?'

'I did it for _you_, Theron!' Merrill exclaimed.

Theron's rant came to an abrupt halt. 'You _what?_'

'You never came back! You promised, but you never came back!'

'I... what...' Theron felt like he was choking. That promise... made so long ago...

Merrill gasped, and pointed to his foot, breaking the mood in the room. 'Theron, you're bleeding!'

He looked down at his foot, which was indeed spilling blood onto the floor. He gently prised his boot off, and saw there was a sizeable piece of glass embedded in his foot. With the adrenaline rush wearing off, he realised it actually hurt.

'No problem, I'll pull it out, you heal me,' he told her, with a small smile.

'I... I can't.' Merrill said, furiously wringing her hands.

Theron's face crumpled in confusion. 'What do you mean you can't? You've done it before!'

'A lot's happened, Theron... I'll get some bandages.'

They cleaned and strapped his wound in silence, before he looked again at Merrill. How did he think she was the same? Everything about her was _off. _She was too skinny. Her joviality had a sad undertone, like a mother mourning the loss of her child. Her wide eyes were not tinged with the gold of sunlight, but the red of autumn leaves. Of _blood. _

Theron took a deep breath, inhaling the unpleasant odour of the horrid alienage, before speaking quietly. 'I... I think you should start at the beginning, Merrill.'

She nodded. 'I missed you so much, Theron. When Duncan took you away, I thought you would come back, or send a message, or fly down on a griffon and take me away, or anything! You said you would!'

Theron looked guiltily at his feet as Merrill continued.

'But you didn't. We had to move on after you and Tamlen killed those shems, but before we left I... went back to the cave. It was _wrong _of Duncan to destroy a piece of our heritage like that, and I thought... I thought that since it made you sick, it could find you as well! I took a piece of it when we moved on, and kept it while we fled Ferelden with all of the others.'

He gave her an encouraging smile, knowing that shouting at her would not make her tell the tale any faster.

'You travelled by boat?' he asked.

Her brilliant eyes widened. 'Elger'nan, yes! It was horrible! I was soo sick the whole way, and they wouldn't let us bring the halla. It was _wonderful _to get back to land.'

He remembered his relief at finally dismounting the ship, and could not help but agree.

'Why did the clan come _here?_ There are more, and bigger forests, elsewhere.' he wondered aloud.

'Asha'belannar instructed us to come.'

He felt a chill run down his spine. He had _killed _Flemeth, at Morrigan's request.

'When?' he tried to keep his voice from choking.

'Oh, Marethari said it was several decades ago.' Merrill replied dismissively, clueless to his fear. 'But I saw her, Theron! She turned into a _dragon _right in front of me! I put Hawke's amulet on the alter, right after I'd met him, and there she was! I wish she had taught me how to do that.'

'H... how long had you been here at this point?' He whispered.

'For nearly a year. Marethari said we were not to leave until the debt was repaid.'

A year. Flemeth was still alive. He felt a righteous anger rise.

_Good. _

Hopefully she took revenge on her daughter, who drew all of them in with her act of opening up as a person, before revealing her true colours with an offer of foul magic to save their lives, her true intent for travelling with them all along.

Merrill softly continued her story. 'When she left, I came back to Kirkwall with Hawke.'

'Why?' Theron asked, frowning. 'Why didn't you stay with the clan?'

Her expression turned into one of deep sorrow. 'I couldn't, Theron. If I didn't leave, they would have exiled me or worse.'

His heart plummeted. 'By the dread wolf, Merrill, _why_?'

'I'd been researching the eluvian. I found out that with a piece of one, I could rebuild a full one, but the piece I had was sick, tainted.'

Theron's green eyes, swimming with unnatural blue, narrowed, and hers widened in response. 'I was very careful, I promise! I tried so many ways to cleanse it, so I could find you, but none of them worked! Then, Marethari took me up Sundermount for training. I met a... spirit. He showed me how I could do it. It worked right away.'

Theron's teeth set on edge. 'You did a deal with a demon!? Merrill, what is wrong with you?'

'Demon is just a word!' Merrill practically squeaked in response, 'he can't help what he is!'

'Exactly! He is bound by his nature, bound to betray you! I slept through most of Marethari's classes and _I _know that! How did _you _get tricked?'

'I wasn't tricked, Theron.' Her cute features formed themselves into a frown. 'Everybody thinks I'm helpless, but I knew what I was doing.' Her anger was replaced with sadness. 'Or at least I thought I did. Everybody told me... but I didn't listen...'

Theron's stomach dropped. Where was Merrill going with this tale?

'I cleansed the fragment I had, but Marethari would not allow me to stay whilst I was doing it.'

'Doing _what_, Merrill?'

She dropped her head, and held out her arms. He could not keep his gasp of horror in. Every inch of her flesh was torn, scarred and torn again.

He stood and slowly backed away. 'You're a _maleficar?_'

She stood too, and pointed at him angrily. 'Take your hateful shemlen words outside, Theron!'

What happened to his innocent girl? The one he loved, the one with whom he laughed, danced and made beautiful music? 'So, you turned to blood magic, for what? A stupid mirror?'

'For _you_!'

'Stop saying that!'

_Creators, is this my fault?_

**_No!_**

'I was _gone_!' he snarled. How could Merrill have done this? Blood magic? The darkspawn artefact that tainted him?

'I didn't care, then. I was so _miserable, _Theron! Every day, I missed you holding me, looking after me!' Merrill's voice cracked, cracking Theron's heart. She sounded _distraught_. 'But that stopped mattering after a while. You're right, you were _gone, _and the eluvian could do so much more than what I first thought. The spirit said it could store memories, memories from our ancestors! It had old magic running through it, I could feel it!'

He scowled. 'The darkspawn taint is _old magic_, Merrill.'

Merrill continued, ignoring him 'It's a Keeper's place to remember, Theron, and the eluvian should have brought our people back to greatness.'

'Is that you talking, or the _demon?_'

She strode up to him and angrily jabbed him in the chest. 'Don't you _dare _say that, you have no idea what I... agh!' Merrill threw her hands into the air.

_Who is this?_

He had never seen this woman, so full of hate, at others, at herself!

Her voice calmed as she continued. 'You were right, anyway, in the end. I hope it makes you feel better. But I'll get to that. Anyway, that's why I can't heal you. It's why the Keeper pushed me away. The... the first time I cut, I lost something far more precious than what I gave to you, that wonderful night by the waterfall.'

She sounded so sad, and he slumped back onto the bench. Was this all his fault? Because he made a stupid promise he could not keep?

'I can't do any kind of creation magic any more. I haven't done blood magic for over a month, but I still can't. I don't think I'll ever be able to again. I can only destroy and kill.'

What could he say to that?

'I came to Kirkwall with Hawke. He found me this house, he had to call in a really big favour to do it, it was so nice of him. He didn't even know me and...' Her delicate features curled into a small smile, one of true happiness, a tiny beacon of hope in the tragedy that was her life.

'You care for him, don't you?' he asked gently.

She nodded. 'He's so strong and brave, just like you were. But... that's not all. He was _a__lways _there for me, whatever happened. We've had to do some _terrible _things over the years, Theron. Sometimes I helped him, others he helped me.'

That part, Theron could understand. After all he had done, Leliana had stayed by his side, always helping, never judging. Whatever else, he was glad Merrill had found a love so willing to stay with her.

She widened her smile. 'He even helped me protect the clan from a Varterral. You should see him fight, Theron, he just jumped straight at it. He doesn't even use his magic sometimes. Just fights with his father's blade.'

'The clan stayed?' he asked, curious.

Her face fell again. 'Yes. For years.'

'Why?'

'For me.' Her voice was tiny now. 'They told the important shems in Hightown that it was because they had no halla, but I found out the truth earlier this year.'

'Why? What happened?'

'Please, lethallin, let me say it my way, otherwise I don't think I can...' She coughed, and tried to strengthen her voice, with limited success. 'Otherwise you won't understand. If there's even the tiniest chance that you will, because you know my story, I want it.'

He felt sick to his stomach. Something terrible had happened, and Merrill was _terrified _of what he would do to her when he found out. He might be angry, but he would never hurt her, no matter what her crime. After all of his decisions, judging others was a luxury he could no longer claim. _Could he?_

'We fought the Varterral because I needed one of Master Ilen's tools, so I invoked vir sulevanan. The Varterral had been attacking our hunters; three had been killed already. Radha, Harshal and Chandan. I brought their amulets back to the Keeper, for what good it did.'

She looked back at him, huge eyes swimming. 'I think... I don't think Marethari expected us to survive, Theron.'

He had heard legends of the Varterral. Huge creatures of nature and stone, practically invincible. And Marethari had demanded Merrill _kill _one? He asked. 'Why would she set you a task like that?'

She finally sat down again, beside him. 'I think she wanted me to run away, to realise that I needed the clan more than the eluvian. But by then I had my own family. Hawke helped, and Isabela, and the others, even Fenris who doesn't even like me, because Hawke asked him and he likes Hawke, even though he's a mage and Fenris hates... sorry. For _me _Theron! They all risked their lives... for me.' Her voice now sung with a melancholy note. 'We did it. We slayed the beast. But, it took Pol too. You remember that funny flat ear who came to stay with us? He was about to take the vallaslin, and had fallen in love with Radha. He was looking for her in the caves.

'When he saw me... he ran. He looked at me like I was a _monster, _Theron! He would rather face the Varterral than spend a few seconds in my presence, to go past us and out of the cave!' She looked at him, her face twisted into a visage of such wretchedness it broke his heart. 'He ran right into the beast's lair, and it tore him apart. It took too long to fight it, when we got to him Hawke's magic couldn't do anything. He died, with fear in his eyes, as he looked at me.'

She shuddered. 'It used to keep me awake at night.'

They were silent for a few seconds, before Merrill started again, her voice brighter as she talked about Hawke.

'I think that was when I fell in love with Hawke. I loved him before that because he was so _nice _and strong, but even after all of that, even when the Keeper begged him not to give me the arulin'holm, he gave me a hug, said he would take me home, and gave me the tool without question. He couldn't have known what it did, or anything, but he just wanted to help.'

She stopped there, her voice becoming croaky. She took a sip of water, and looked at him again, with a sad expression on her face. 'The arulin'holm didn't work. _Nothing _did. After my first night with Hawke he offered to help; he knows _lots _of people who know so much about such strange things, but nothing worked.

'I tried for years, Theron. I... I cut deeper and deeper. Hawke found me passed out, nearly dead in front of it, a few months ago. He was so _angry, _so scared. That's when I decided to try something else.'

Merrill cleared her throat, and strengthened her next words. 'I... went back to the spirit. I was so close to fixing it, I could feel it, the old magic was _almost _ready to return!' Theron scowled, but let her finish. 'I just needed one last thing and I _knew _he could help!'

'We went up the mountain the long way so I didn't have to see the Keeper. All we did was _argue_ and _fight_, about _nothing_, even if we were just passing through. But when we reached the top, she was already there. She told me... she told me that she had kept the clan here because I was still part of Sabrae, and the People protect their own. I was in danger from the spirit, and Marethari would not leave me to my fate.'

She started trembling. Not sure of the appropriate response, he placed a hand over hers. She was so _cold_. 'Marethari said the spirit was a demon of Pride, and was only looking to be released from his prison. I didn't believe her, and told her that it was perfectly safe, it was bound. She just gave me that look, you know, her look when she makes you feel like a da'len with her hand in the honey pot?' Theron nodded to her, remembering that look all too well. 'That's when I realised I couldn't sense the spirit any more. Marethari said she knew I would come, and wanted me to feel how weak his barrier was, because of what I had been doing, and show me how to fix it.'

A tear ran down her face, and she sniffed. 'But it was too late. The demon was already free, and Marethari took it into her own body so it didn't... so it didn't come to me! She... she was right, Theron. _Everything _she had said, was right! Everything _everybody _I cared for warned me about! I was so... It was all my...'

Great sobs racked her tiny body, and Theron suddenly understood the full implication of what she was saying. The Keeper had become an abomination. There was only one fate for such a creature.

The woman who cared for them all, raised them, chided them when they were wrong and praised them when they were strong. The one who always preached patience and love, even for the shemlen who hated and feared them.

Marethari. An abomination. Because of Merrill's stupid pride. Because he had broken his promise.

He did not know whether to strike her or hold her. She looked so _broken. _Could he strike a broken woman, a woman he once loved?

_Yes_.

He felt it, like he always did when the indecision became too much. The cold, bubbling up, drowning out petty morality. Clearing his mind of fragile, abstract concepts like "right" or "wrong".

He relied on it a lot during the Blight. It was easier to slit a sleeping child's throat when he only saw an obstacle to his army, and the guilt that came later was preferable to failure and death. Leliana would help with the guilt.

He _wanted _to hit Merrill. To throttle her, to make her _hurt. _

_Marethari..._

But he did not need to.

She was doing it to herself.

Whatever horror he could inflict on Merrill, she had already done to herself, ten times worse.

So he held her. He brought her close, shared his warmth, stroked her hair. He felt her pain, knew the guilt racking her. He still loved her, in his own way. She had been such an important part of his life, his adolescence, his motivation as he began his journey as a Grey Warden. She should never have had to do what she did; she was too innocent, too sweet. 'What happened then?'

She looked up at him, enormous eyes swimming. 'We killed her. We killed the demon. It was _awful, _Theron. There were so many ghosts... Tamlen, Pol, all the ghosts of my stupid quest! It was my fault, all of it! Why aren't you mad!'

He held her closer, not saying anything.

'Hawke wanted us to run then. Get back to Kirkwall before the others found out. It's the only time he's ever wanted to run, because he was worried about me.

'B... but... it was too late. Some of the hunters were outside the cave, looking for Marethari. I had her staff, and they... they blamed me... and they were right! By Mythal, Theron, I wanted to die there! Fenarel drew his sword, and I was ready for him to cut me down. After all I did, I deserved it. I still do.'

Theron's mouth was dry, his heart hammering against Merrill's head pressed against his chest. There was only one way this story could end, now.

'But Hawke didn't let him. When Fenarel took a step towards me with his sword, Hawke struck him down, with a blast of magic like I've never seen. He... crushed him, like a bug under a boot.

'I... I don't remember much of what happened next. I just wanted it all to end, but everybody was screaming, my friends kept pulling me along behind them, hiding me, and there was so much _blood._'

Her voice was absolutely broken now. The room was full of an unnatural silence, so absolute. 'Th...then I... I was in the camp... and there were bodies _everywhere! _The hunters. Master Ilen. Hahren Paival. _Everybody! _Scattered, all the way up Sundermount, like a... a... some kind of horrible path! Hawke and the others killed them all, to protect me, when I just... when I just wanted to be dead! When I deserved to be dead!

_The whole clan... _

_My family..._

Theron realised he should be feeling something. Sorrow. Anger. Vengeance. Lamentation.

Instead, he was empty.

There was nothing.

He could hear everything, with a deafening clarity. Merrill's pitiful sobs. The rustling of her hair, against his shirt. Her heart, beating furiously, sounding like the flapping of a bird's wings.

What could he say?

What should he say?

Could he forgive her?

Should he forgive her?

Was he even upset enough for her to need forgiveness?

She was talking to him.

'Theron?' Her voice was like the trickling of a tiny stream, that he could block with a shunt of his foot, that he could pare in two with an arrow.

'Y... You shouldn't be mad at Hawke, or Isabela, or anyone else, lethallin, they were defending themselves...'

Her babbling faded into the depths. Why was he reacting so strongly? Was he reacting strongly? Surely a strong reaction would be to kneel on the floor, rend his hair and scream in agony, or to draw his blade, plunge it into the heart of the one whose ignorance, whose _pride _destroyed everything he knew from his childhood?

What should he do?

Did he even harbour those secret dreams any more? Of returning to the clan, with fame and riches, making everything better, because he was a Grey Warden now, and the shems would respect them?

It had been so long since he'd thought of it.

Merrill had, in their final moments together, asked if he could get her a pet griffon.

He had said yes.

The Keeper, watching them, had rolled her eyes, but gazed upon the pair with a sad affection.

_The Keeper is gone._

Merrill killed the Keeper.

Because Merrill was looking for him.

Because he left.

Because he never came back.

_**He** _killed the Keeper. _He _killed the clan, because sweet Merrill could not forget his promise.

He stood up, barely aware of whatever stream of thought of Merrill's he disrupted.

**_Your _**fault!

A cacophony of voices _screamed _at him, everybody he had sacrificed, betrayed, _lost_ throughout his life.

_Just like the mages! They could have helped! They weren't abominations, but you cut them down anyway, because if any were left, your Templars would have stayed behind. __**Oh thank the maker, we were... what are you doing? Why are you-**_

_Your _fault!

_Marjolaine, at the mercy of Leliana. __**Kill her! Your past will never leave you! **__He ruined her, that night. Destroyed her. Took the small ember of purity and quashed it beneath his boot. Because he loved her. Because he could not bear a moment without her. Because he could not bear her judging him, should she realise just how good she truly was._

_Your _fault!

_Like Alistair, unable to accept his position alongside Loghain, dragged off to be cast away from the walls of Denerim. __**After everything we went through! I trusted you! **_

_Your _fault!

_Your _fault!

'_**My fault!' **_Theron screamed, as loud as his lungs could manage.

It came out as just a whisper, barely reaching his own ears.

He was on the floor.

'I know it's my fault...'

There was a whispering, at the edge of his consciousness. A tugging at his soul.

Oh.

It was real.

There was a woman, talking to him. Pulling his shirt.

He stood up.

She was looking at him with enormous, green and red eyes.

'Theron?'

He did not recognise her. She was a malnourished elf, dressed in rags. She bore the marks of the People, but everything about her screamed "_human". _Broken, like all of the other elves in this sad place.

'Who are you?' he asked.

She dropped to the floor, weeping, head in hands.

He was about to help her up when he heard it.

A song, like nectar to his soul. A voice, so sweet as to drive men to madness, singing words of such sorrow and beauty that it tore his heart.

He turned from the filthy house and left. Sure enough, underneath the beautiful tree, sat a goddess.

He barely noticed a large human enter the house behind him.

The goddess sang, children clustered around her feet. Their parents stood, eyeing the goddess with caution, but their expressions were softened with peace, with sadness.

He smiled, knowing the words were for him. They were painful, like the pain from cleaning a wound.

A song for the departed, a farewell to his family.

When she finished, the goddess turned to him, before standing and crossing to him.

She took each of his hands in hers, and fixed him with a sad gaze that tore straight into his soul.

'Let's go, Theron.'

He let her lead him from the square. It was easier, to trust her. She would not judge him. He knew, in some deep part of his soul that she would help him, hold him, love him, until he could do for himself, and then he would do the same for her, as they always had.

They left.

They did not look back.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Thank you to everybody who read, alerted, favourited and reviewed this piece, I very much hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. _

_Thanks again to TSLi for inspiring and beta reading this._


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